Rage
by sorrow and bleus
Summary: Rage is the name of the best girl newsie around. She's got a fiery temper and a short fuse, and if you cross her, she'll leave you bruised. But then she meets the only person who can calm her. Will her fire be doused or will it rage on?
1. Chapter 1

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter One - Frustrate**

It's August, and it's hot in Manhattan. Hot days make me angry. In fact, most all days make me angry. I am walking down the sizzling sidewalk when I feel a hand poke me in the ribs. I turn around full of fury, ready to soak whatever poor sucker is standing behind me.

But it's Jack, and the only time I've ever gotten truly mad at him was when he told me that him and Sarah were "official." More about _her_ later, but Jack is one of my best friends.

"Damn you, Cowboy," I snarl, smiling.

"Mornin' to you, too, Rage," he says. "Look, there's someone I want you to meet."

I narrow my eyes in suspicion. "Who?"

"David," he says. "He was the one I told you about who helped us with the strike, you know?"

"I guess. Hey, I gotta sell today, man. I ain't got time to go gallivantin' around with all your little buddies."

His smile falters. "Don't be like that."

I stick my hand to my hip and flick my red hair out of my eyes. "Why not?"

"'Cause." Seeing my expression, he continues. "I told him I'd introduce you, okay?"

We walk together six blocks back to the Lodging House. When we get there, I notice immediately the guy standing on the steps leading to the building. He is tall and sort of stocky, with brown hair, honest eyes, and a chiseled face. He has a muscular body and a broad chest.

I hate him already.

Before we could reach the bottom of the steps, Jack pulls me aside and clears his throat nervously.

"Spit it out," I say warily.

"Um," he starts. "Well, there's something about David that I haven't told you."

"What is it?" I growl. "You might as well tell me, and get your beating over with now instead of later, when I'm sure to get _really_ mad at you."

He mutters something incoherently that sounded like "Dfslkjeiorjujfdjklsfjlkj."

"_What?_"

"He's Sarah's brother," he said quickly.

"_Oh_, no," I said loudly. "No way in hell, Jack. You know how I feel about _that girl_. I ain't goin' over there." I crossed my arms across my chest.

He ignores this insult to his—_shudder_—girlfriend. "Too late."

He grabs my upper arm and drags me over to David. "I hate you," I hiss at him.

"Be polite," he grumbles as he pulled me in front of him.

At first, neither of us says anything. I sized him up. He looks like a pretty strong guy, but I could definitely take him in a fight. He also looks like the type who "didn't pick fights with girls."

Damned bastards.

We looked at each other awkwardly, me glaring, until he stuck out his hand in a perfectly gentlemanly way.

"Hello," he said politely.

"'Ay." I slipped my calloused hand into his and shook briefly.

"Jack tells me you're the best girl newsie there is," he said conversationally.

Jack beamed at me and I shot him daggers with my eyes.

"Yeah, so they say," I said, looking him up and down.

"Yeah…"

I clear my throat. "Well, if you too lovebirds don't mind, I gotta get back to making money."

"You're going so soon?" said David, sounding disappointed. I shoot him a look.

"Yeah, somethin' wrong with that?"

"But we just met."

"I gots bills to pay, boy."

Jack looks at me intensely. "Stay," he commands.

I turn on him. "You know, Jacky-boy, I might have just stayed. But now that you think you're gonna _tell_ me what to do—"I started to head off, but he grabbed me again.

"I'm gonna kick your ass so bad later on," I growl into his ear. He rolls his eyes.

"So, have you met my sister?" David asks expectantly. I guess he was trying to turn the conversation onto happier topics.

"Wrong question, buckaroo." I smirk and Jack sends me a warning look, but I ignore him. I shake my hair over my shoulder as I say, "Yeah, I've met your sister. And let me tell you a little piece of my mind—"

At that moment, several things happen at once. I hear a loud "No!" and I am knocked to the ground and find my face pressed uncomfortably into Jack's shirt. I punch wildly at him, even though I can't really move.

"You bastard, get off me!" I mutter.

"No," he whispers loudly.

"Yes," I whisper back.

"_No._"

"NOW!"

"If I do, will you promise to be nice?"

I chuckle. "Yeah. Right."

"Shut up, _Alice_."

"I'll kill you!" I roar, throwing him off of me with strength I didn't know I had. "Don't you _ever_ call me that, ya hear me!?"

He stands up and brushes himself off. "Yeah, whatever. Maybe now you know how I feel when I introduce you to one of my _friends_, and all you do is act like—"

"Like what, Jack? Go on and say it."

"No."

I sigh exasperatedly. "You have no idea how much I hate you right now."

"Yeah? Well, you have no idea how much you are still my best damn friend, Rage. Just because I should hate you doesn't mean that I do."

"You are so full of it!"

"Am not."

"I'm leaving," I say, and I turn on my heel and storm away, pushing through the thick crowds that are congregated on the streets like any other day in New York City.

I shove and jostle through the throng of people, getting dirty looks all around. Anyone who looks at me bad, I look at them even worse. Anyone who turns up their nose, I "accidentally" crush their toes beneath the sole of my shoe.

It is not until I reach the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge that I realize how far I have walked. It is not until I sit down on the side of the bridge that I realize David has followed me here.

My eyes burn a red path of anger as I silently watch him sit down next to me.

"Look," I say. "I'm not in the mood, alright?"

"Okay," he says, and continues to sit there, staring out at people passing by.

I eye him suspiciously. "Ya need something? Jack ask you to follow me?"

"Nah," he sighs. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't do something rash."

A flame of anger spurs up inside me. "Why do _you_ care?"

He laughs quietly to himself. "You're rude, Miss."

"Ah, shut ya mouth, sucker."

He just smirks and looks out over the streets.

We sit awkwardly for a few minutes. "You don't even know me," I say. "So don't worry about it, hm?"

"You're unbelievable—"

"Why? 'Cause I'm sick of everyone treatin' me like I'm their little sister that they gotta protect? 'Cause they think I can't control myself?" I sniff indignantly. "Well, maybe that part's true, but I'll be damned if I need a babysitter all the time."

"I don't think you do," he says quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I consider it for a minute. For some reason, the fiery rage that is usually burning inside me is starting to feel smothered. A cool calm is taking its place.

I don't like it.

"Liar," I accuse.

He just stares at me in disbelief. "For the life of me, I cannot figure you out."

"Good," I say and stand up. "Later."

I begin to walk across the bridge, leaving him sitting there. The steamy air clouds my vision. I look back to where we were sitting. He's not there.

I look over my shoulder. When I see what's behind me, I square my shoulders strongly, and proceed to Brooklyn with my chin in the air.

This time, David didn't follow me.

**~Author's Note: Hey. This is my first Newsies fic, so please read & review and tell me if you like it or if you have suggestions or whatever. And in case you couldn't tell, I'm not Disney and I don't own Newsies. Sadly. **

**lovelovelove,**

**Julianna.~**


	2. Chapter 2

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Two – Going Under**

I stick my hands in my pockets and duck my head to block the sun. My feet make a steady rhythm on the pavement as I walk toward Brooklyn. I don't know where I'm going exactly. The only people I know in Brooklyn are Spot Conlon and his friends.

On a normal day, I'd be able to tolerate Spot's arrogant attitude, might even find it kinda funny, but today I just wouldn't be able to _not_ sock him one in the face.

I sigh and head to the docks anyway.

"Well, look who it is." I hear Spot before I see him. "The best girl newsie around."

"Who came up with that clever nickname?" I murmur, looking around lazily. I still don't see him.

"What's that?" I can tell he's behind me, but I'm not going to turn around to look for him.

"Nothin.'"

"Don't nobody lie to Spot Conlon and get away with it." He appears in front of me. I roll my eyes at him. "Now tell me what you said."

"I didn't say nothin', Conlon, and knock off your sass before I slug you."

"Hey, hey, hey. Didn't your mama ever teach you to be polite?" He smirks.

"Didn't yours ever teach you to _bathe_?" I snap.

He laughs and pushes me against the wooden post on the dock and pulls at my hair. "Don't talk to me like that."

"Get off me." I push him off of me violently and punch him in the stomach. While he is doubled over in pain, I walk along the dock and sit down on the edge.

He comes up behind me and sits down next to me. "Sorry 'bout that, Spot," I say reluctantly. "I'm kinda frustrated today."

"That ain't nothin' new," he mutters.

"What'd you say!?" I snap.

"I said that ain't nothin' new."

"Ah, shut up, dirtbag."

"Hey, you asked."

I don't respond, but stare glumly at the dirty water beneath our feet.

"Ya gotta learn to cool off, Rage," Spot says to me.

"You ain't my mother, Conlon."

He climbs onto his feet.

"What're you doin'?" I say suspiciously, standing up myself.

"I'm gonna teach you what it means to cool off." There is an all-too-familiar evil glint in his eyes.

"Don't you dare, Conlon. I swear on my grandmother's grave, I'll soak ya till ya can't see straight."

"I'll risk it," he says and shoves me backward, hard, so that I fall into the disgusting water.

I splutter and shake the weeds out of my hair. Then, deciding it can't get much worse, I suck in my breath and duck under the water.

I resurface under the dock, where he can't see me, and just _wait._

"Rage?" he asks after a minute. "Where are you?"

I don't respond.

"Hey, that ain't funny," he continues. "Don't make me come in there after you."

I hear his feet tap to the end of the dock. I imagine him looking out to survey the blackish water. I swim slowly and silently to the edge of the dock and then, quick as a flash, I grab his ankle, pulling him feet-first into the nasty water.

He shakes like a dog and he is absolutely _furious_. I laugh maniacally and push his head under the water when he isn't looking. Then I swing myself onto the dock smoothly and sit Indian-style in the middle of it, my arms crossed, just watching.

"Damn you," he splutters from the water.

"Ah, how good it is to be loved," I say to myself and lean back, stretching out and crossing my arms beneath my head. The sun beats down on my face and I close my eyes, flinging an arm across them.

He stomps onto the dock soaking wet and makes it a point to get water droplets all over me by shaking his shaggy hair in my face as he lay down on my right side.

"Is that the best payback ya got, Conlon?" I taunt. "In case ya didn't notice, I was already covered in water."

"I don't need your smart mouth," he spits. "Not after that incident."

I laugh. "You started it."

"You're so immature," he says and stretches out beside me.

"Look who's talkin'."

"Hey. I'm a man if there ever was one."

I laugh harder. "You?"

"Yeah, me," he says and rolls over to slap me lightly on my face.

"I thought gentlemen didn't hit the ladies," I sneer sarcastically.

"I never said I was no damn gentleman, did I?"

I chortle. "Ha. King of Brooklyn, indeed!"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing…"

I am drifting to sleep.

In my dream, I am drowning, and I can't scream. The water fills my lungs and muffles my voice. Spot, David, and Jack are in the water above me, I can see their feet, and I try to grasp them.

But I am falling faster into the blackness beneath my own feet and my soaking clothes are pulling me down. My breaths stop coming. I am out of air…

I wake up shivering. I am still lying on the dock and my clothes are still soaked wet.

Spot is leaning over my face, blocking out the sun from my view.

"Move," I command him.

"Didja have a nightmare?" he asks annoyingly.

"No, why?" I answer too quickly. His smirk broadens.

"You was whimperin' in your sleep."

"I was not."

"Yeah, you was."

I decided not to argue. "No one knows."

"Suuure."

"You tell anyone, Conlon—"

"Ah, I ain't tellin' no one. I ain't all bad."

I climb to my feet. "Wouldn't bet on that."

I turn to leave. "Where ya goin'?" he asks me.

"What's it to you?" I snap feverishly, but turn back to clap him on the shoulder. "See ya, Conlon."

I walk for a real long time until I can finally get up the desire to go back to the Lodging House. One good thing that I have to look forward to is that David won't be there. But Jack will.

I return, my shirt still wet on the front and my hair still mostly wet.

When I enter the main room, all eyes are upon me, except Jack's. He stares blithely at the floor and won't even look up when I walk in.

"What happened to you?" asks Mush.

I hesitate but decide on the truth. "I went swimming with Spot Conlon." At their stares I add, "He pushed me." More stares. "Don't judge me, suckers."

"Wait, wait," says Kid Blink. "Did youse guys go swimmin' or didja go _swimmin'?_"

"Shut your face, ya perv," I retort.

"Hey, just curious."

"You would be."

"No need to be unkind." He winks.

"With you there is, _Mistah Blink_," I say sarcastically, alluding to his less-than-gentlemanly stature.

He curls his lip and looks away. "What's got into her?" he asks Jack, hiking a thumb at me.

"How the hell would I know?" Jack barks. He stands up and stomps into the bunk room.

Kid Blink turns back to Mush and the others and shrugs, unconcerned. "Hey, lemme tell ya 'bout this girl—"

The others gather around him excitedly in a circle.

_Idiots._

I sigh and walk into the bunk room to talk to Jack. He is sitting on his bunk, and is facing the wall.

"Jack?" I say quietly. "Can we talk?"

He ignores me, so I walk over to his bed and scale the ladder. I sit down on the end of the mattress, as far away from him as I can be.

He turns away from me.

"Jack," I begin nervously, trying to hold onto my composure. "You're my best friend. You know that."

He still doesn't answer me. I clear my throat.

"I have anger issues and I know that. You're still the best person that I know, and I'm really sorry that I'm such a bad friend to you."

"You make me so mad, Rage," he whispers.

I look down at my hands and fold them in my lap. "I can tell."

"I'm so angry," he says in a normal voices.

"I am, too."

He throws his balled fist onto the mattress with force. "Dammit!"

He looks at me angrily. "What is it, Jacky?"

"I'm so mad!" he screams at me.

"I am too!" I scream back.

This is our tradition.

"What do I do!?" he roars.

We are screaming very loudly now. Every once in a while, we do this. It's a me and Jack thing. You wouldn't understand.

"I don't know!"

"AH DE DUH DUH DUH!!!"

"MY THOUHGTS EXACTLY!"

"I'M STARTING TO CALM DOWN!" he bellows hoarsely.

"I AM TOO!" I scream.

By the time we are finished, we are both on our backs, laughing hysterically. My stomach muscles hurt and my face is sore.

I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

I beat him affectionately on the back and hop off of the bed.

"Oh," he says, as if he has just remembered something.

"What?" I ask.

"I was wondering…"

"Wondering _what?_"

"Wondering your answer."

"Answer to _what?_"

"Kid Blink's question."

"Shut your mouth, Jacky."

He smirks. "That's no way to talk to your best friend."

I snort and walk out of the room. He laughs and follows.

"Well, look who's finally joining us!" Kid Blink exclaims joyfully, his troublemaking eyes glinting maniacally. "What was you two doin' back there, hmm?"

"You wish," I sigh, settling into a armchair and surveying the room. It's been a damn hard day but everything seems to be calming down. My ragged temper is finally resting.

A couple chairs over, I hear Snipeshooter and Itey humming. Then, to my dismay, they begin to sing, "—neighbor to neighbor—"

Jack joins in, standing up. "—father to son—"

The others stand and begin a formation. My mouth is wide open in disgust. "—one for all and all for one—"

They start in a rousing chorus, singing loudly and passionately. "—Open the gates and seize the day—"

Then, to my utter revulsion, they begin to _dance. _Actually _dance._

"Hey, Rage, join us!" Snipes calls to me.

"Not for a million bucks!" I call back.

Remind me not to go out in public with them. Like, ever.

**~Author's Note:**

**Thanks to MushSpotgoil for the review.**

**lovelovelove,**

**Julianna~**


	3. Chapter 3

RAGE

Chapter Three – **Lying Is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have With Her Clothes On**

The next morning, we wake up before the dawn as usual. I roll out of my warm bunk and grouch my way over to the bathrooms.

"Morning, Rage!" Crutchy chirps at me.

I grimace, but manage a half-smile for him. "Mornin', Crutch."

"How ya doin'?" he asks good-naturedly.

"Alright, how about yourself?"

"Fine. Just fine. It's a beautiful day in New York City!"

"It's too hot, though, man."

He nods. "True, true. Well, I gots to get cleaned up. I's be seein' ya, Rage!"

"Not if I see you first, Crutch."

He laughs and walks off. I sigh and look out the window. It is, in fact, a beautiful day in New York City. A perfect day.

Which means that, with my luck, something terrible will happen. Like I'll only sell three papes, or I'll lose an arm in a streetfight, or this time, Spot'll push me into the tank of dead fish at the Hatchery, or—

Or, I'll have to see David.

He has just walked into the room.

"Damn," I curse under my breath, looking around wildly for an escape route. My only option seems to be one of the sinks. I dive under the closest one, and it is only then that I look up to find myself staring directly at one of the boy's belts.

I manage to get a peek of a face. Kid Blink.

I realize suddenly how bad this looks, given Blink's perversion; me on my knees in front of him, at the perfect height for—

"What ya doin' down there, sweetheart?" he asks me conceitedly.

"Shut the hell up, wouldja?"

"Look, if you're lookin' to do that, ya need only ask me."

"I'm not, you womanizing bastard. I'm avoiding David."

"Always with the insults!" he exclaims. "Some women like a womanizer." He winks flirtatiously.

"Just be quiet. Block me from view, how 'bout it?"

"Why should I?" he demands.

I decide to switch tactics. "Maybe I'll pay you back for it later, if you know what I mean."

He grinned. "I know what ya mean," he said brightly.

"You're a very smart guy, ya know that?"

"Yeah." He puffed himself up.

I wait under the sink for what feels like an hour, with water dripping on my head and an occasional arrogant chuckle from Blink.

"Hey, he's gone!" Blink finally calls to me.

"Finally," I sigh and climb out from under the sink.

Kid Blink is staring at me. "What?" I ask suspiciously.

"Payment!" he demands.

"Oh," I say. "that."

He looks at me expectantly. "Well?"

Figuring it is best to get it all over with, I lean over to him and press my lips hard to his. I kiss him for a couple minutes until his hands start to find their way to my shirt buttons, and then I pull away.

He looks disappointed, and turns away pouting.

I shiver and try to shake the feeling of him off of me. Maybe another shower would be good…

Then, David reappears from behind a door and all the newsies (except me) laugh and cheer.

David stares at me like he's seen nothing like me before. Well, he probably hasn't.

I glance around quickly, but it's too late. He's already seen me.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" I shake my head. "Why are you here?" I demand.

"That," he motions toward Kid Blink. "And because they told me to watch."

I look over at the other newsies with fury in my eyes. I see Snipes motioning at David to stop running his mouth, but when he sees me looking he smiles sweetly.

"Aw, I'm gonna kill all o' youse."

I turn back to David. "Sorry 'bout the confusion. You can go now."

He doesn't say another word, just turns and leaves through the door. I watch him leave and then round on the others.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" I demand.

"What's wrong with you?" says Itey. "You were suckin' face wit him." He motions at Kid Blink.

"What's that supposed to mean, bum?"

"Yeah, what's that supposed to mean!?" Kid Blink inquires angrily.

"He's only done that with, like, every girl in Manhattan," says Snipes.

"And some in Brooklyn," adds Jack.

"And Queens," says Racetrack.

"Times Square—"

"Ah, shut up!" I punch the sink.

"Don't break the sink!" exclaims Jack.

"It's a sink, numbskull. It ain't gonna break, it's porcelain!" I say angrily.

"—A porcelain tub wit boilin' water—" exclaims Jack.

"—A Saturday night wit the mayor's daughter—" Kid Blink sings.

"—Look at me, I'm the King of New York—" Racetrack breaks into song. "—Suddenly, I'm respectable—"

"—Starin' right atcha, lousy wit stature—" continues Mush.

They begin to grab any and all of the few chairs that there are and perform a complicated sort of clan/tribal dance around them.

"—Nubbin' wit all the muckety-mucks, I'm blowin' my dough and goin' deluxe—" sings Jack.

"—And there I be, ain't I pretty?—" Race croons.

"No, you ain't!" I scream over their rumpus. "What's wrong wits you guys? Don't ya have any pride?"

"Hey, Rage is gonna have to sing David's parts cause he ain't here," says Snipes excitedly.

"The hell I am, neither," I spit at them.

They shrug.

"—It's my city—"

"SHUT UP!" I scream. "Why are you always singing!?"

"It's fun," says Itey, his smile fading.

"It puts us in good moods," says Jack.

"Yeah," says Mush. "Don't judge us because we're in touch with our creative sides."

They all look at him with distaste. "What he means is, don't be jealous," says Kid Blink.

"Don't flatter yourselves," I say, walking toward the door.

I exit and bound down the stairs. At the bottom is none other than David. He is facing the street and sitting on one of the steps.

"Are you stalking me?" I ask him and he turns around to look at me.

He shakes his head and turns back around.

"What, are ya mad at me or somethin'?"

"Shouldn't I be?"

"Why would you be?" I am confused.

"Well after that little spectacle—"

"What are you talking about, man? I didn't do anythin' to ya. In fact, I think I was pretty polite."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about you and Kid Blink."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Me and him ain't nothin' but friends. Not even that. I kinda hate his guts."

He stares at me. "That's even worse."

"Why?" I really don't get what he's going on about.

"Do you always go around kissing guys that you aren't dating?"

"Not always…"

He laughs meanly. "Is that the kind of girl you are, Al—"

"Don't!" I exclaim. "Don't even think about callin' me that, Davey-boy."

"Whatever." He rolls his eyes away from me.

"I ain't messin' wit you no more," I say, standing up. "You ain't got no reason to be mad at me."

"You just go on thinking that!" he calls after me as I walk down the sidewalk to pick up my papes.

"Gimme twenty," I say to Weasel.

"What's the magic word?" he whines.

"The magic word? You don't wanna know the magic word, chump."

"Didn't no one ever teach ya to respect your elders?"

"Aw, shut up, ya worthless old loony. Give me my damn papes."

He ignores my comment and slides the papes under the glass. "Two bits."

I throw the money under the glass at him and sit down on the sidewalk and swish my hair over my shoulder. Even though it's not much past seven in the morning, it's getting hot, and quick.

Hot days make me mad. Or did I mention that?

~Author's Note:

I was having technical difficulties when I posted Chapter Three, so that is why it didn't have an author's note. I am putting this on Ch. 3 and I will put it on Ch. 4. I love you all.

BIG thank you's to MushSpotGoil and Spot'sAlleyCat for their reviews and to MushSpotGoil, Spot'sAlleyCat, HerminoneandMarcus, and Adalia King for favoriting.

Royal shadow1, part of the whole relationship between Davey and Rage is going to be that he is the only one that can calm her down. And yes, eventually she will show him a soft side. But it may be a long while coming for y'all. Keep in mind that I have written way, way ahead on this story (up to Ch. 9). There is softiness coming up. Please continue to make suggestions. 3.

lovelovelove,

Julianna. ~


	4. Chapter 4

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Four – Blood/Stone Cold Crazy**

I am walking down a side street when I hear the familiar, girlish whine of Oscar and Morris Delancey.

"Well, look what we have here, Oscar," drawls Morris.

"Look at that," Oscar replies. "It's the best girl newsie in all of New York."

"You have _got_ to come up with a better name for me," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What'd ya say, darlin'?" Morris asks me, standing so close to me that I can smell his dirty skin.

"I said," I say, leaning closer to him sweetly. "I'm gonna soak ya, sucker."

Quick as lightning, I knee him where it hurts and while he is bent over in agony, I fly around to punch Oscar in the nose. It starts to bleed and I kick him twice in the shins, hard.

Morris is pulling himself together, and walking nearer to me in anger, but I smoothly pull him into a headlock.

He struggles against me, flailing his rail-thin arms against me, but seventeen years on the streets of Manhattan have taught me a thing or two about fighting, and my arms are well-equipped to deal with wimps like the Delancey brothers.

"Liberate yourself from my vise-like grip," I say to Morris, who is still struggling.

He reminds me of an exceptionally ugly rat with a weird moustache (him) caught underneath the hooves of a strong and beautiful red-headed horse (me).

That's a metaphor. Don't hate.

Then, his delightfully helpful brother Oscar, decides to help out by grabbing me by the waist from behind.

I kick back with force and kick him in the babymaker. Then I shove my unoccupied elbow into his nose, which is still bleeding profusely.

He makes a nasally grunt and falls to the ground.

Then, I throw Morris violently onto the hard gravel and kick him brutally. When they are both lying whimpering on the ground, I leave them and continue on my way.

What a wonderful life…

The event of this morning actually put me in a good mood, so I am nearly skipping when I start out on my way again.

I almost pass Jack on the street but then I fall back in step with him, where he is peddling the papes.

"Hey." I grin at him.

He gives me a weird look. "What have_ you_ been smokin'?"

"What have I been smokin'?" I repeat. "Only revenge, my dear friend."

"What are you talkin' 'bout?"

"I just met the Delancey brothers down an alley."

He looks at me concerned. "Oh, God. Did they knock your brains loose? Is that why you're so happy?"

I frown. "No."

He places his hands on my face and looks at me. "Rage, come back to me! Can you hear me?"

I shake him off. "Jacky. I'm fine," I say, starting to get annoyed.

"Race!" he calls, ignoring me. "Mush! Skittery! David—!"

I clamp my fingers over his mouth. "What do you think you're _doin'?_"

"It's gonna be okay, Rage. We'll get you some help."

"Jacky, shut up! I'm totally fine! I just beat the daylights out of both the Delancey brothers!"

His eyes flicker with excitement as the other boys gather around us with concern. "_Really!?_" he asks in disbelief.

"Yeah," I say and roll my eyes at the others.

Skittery runs over to us and stands next to me, panting. "Rage!" he pants. "Are you okay?"

I am annoyed. But Skittery is a good friend of mine, and he is so damn nice that I can't even get mad at him.

"Yes, I am perfectly fine. Our friend Jacky likes to jump to conclusions."

He is very out of breath, having ran all the way over to us after Jack started yelling.

"I think she's hallucinating," Jack told the others. "She just said that she beat up the Delanceys."

Skittery turns me to face him. He holds me in place by keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. "Rage," he says calmly. "Do you feel lightheaded, or dizzy?"

"No!" I say, frustrated.

"Okay, we gotta get her calmed down," says Jack, genuine fear in his eyes.

"Jack!" I roar. "Quit it!"

He looks around in pure desperation. "Are any of you doctors!?" he asks, looking at the newsies.

"Why, yes, Jack," says Racetrack diplomatically. "Don't you remember when I got my medical license last week?"

"No," says Jack. "but who cares? Help her!"

"I was being sarcastic," says Race exasperatedly.

"What is that? Some sort of medical condition?" asks Jack.

They all roll their eyes at him.

"Jack," I say, smothering my anger. "I am fine. I am not delusional. Leave me alone."

"Skittery," Jack commands. "Watch her, and make sure she don't do nothin' crazy. I'm gonna go get Denton, he can help us."

I exhale loudly, but I don't argue with him. Instead, I wait until he has gone and all the newsies except me and Skittery have returned to work. Then, I turn and walk quickly down the street.

Skittery follows me. "Where ya goin'?"

"I don't know."

"You ain't, you know, crazy, are ya?" he asks me.

"No more than usual," I reply, waiting for him to catch up. When he finally does, I say, "Come on. We gotta hurry to get away from him."

We walk together a few blocks until we can't see the others anymore. We pass carts laden with fruit and hotdogs, carts with clattering horses, and people of all types on the streets.

"Oh, look who it is," says Skittery, who has stopped in the street and is staring down the row.

It's _her_. Satan incarnate. Jack's stupid girlfriend. _Sarah._

"I may vomit," I say to Skittery.

"Yeah. Same." None of us like her, except Jack. And probably David too, knowing him.

"Well, well, well," I say. "I think I'll give her a little piece of my mind."

I roll up my sleeves and storm over to her. What a great day this is turning out to be.

"Hi, Sarah," I cajole sweetly when I am standing in front of her.

She looks me up and down with distaste. I glance downwards at my scuffy shoes and raggedy pants, un-tucked and halfway unbuttoned shirt.

"Um…" she says. "Hi?"

"How ya doin', sweetheart?" I say cheerily, throwing my arm around her shoulders.

She looked down at my hand, calloused, with dirt under the fingernails and laughed meanly.

"Do I _know_ you!?" she asks me.

"Don't you remember me? Jack's fiancé?"

She slips from under my arm and stands looking at me. "_What!?_" she says.

"Oh." My smile falters. "Didn't he tell you about me?"

She looks enraged, something I know only too well. "Um, no."

I try to look like a puppy who has just been spitted upon.

"Wait," she says. "He's getting married to _you_?"

"Yes," I say.

"You're lying," she accuses.

"Jealous?" I ask.

"I'm Jack's girlfriend!" she screams.

"Ha, ha. Just kidding."

"That's not funny!" she whines, close to tears, buries her face in her skirt and runs back inside.

"Well, my job is done here," I sigh contentedly and walk back over to Skittery. "We've done a good thing, Skits."

He is laughing hysterically. "I know. I heard the whole thing."

"Don't tell Jack," I warn.

"I won't." He shakes his head. "Poor, pathetic Jack."

"I know. It's a pity, ain't it?"

"Yeah."

"Think he's lookin' for us?" I ask.

"Prolly." We both laugh.

"Ah, let's not go back."

He chuckles. "Where we gonna go?"

"I don't know. Nevermind. We'll just go back."

We walk over to Manhattan, and sit down in front of the Lodging House, sweating.

"God, it's hot," I say.

"Tell me how I'm gonna make ends meet?" he sings.

"Shut up," I say.

"We need a good assassination!" he continues.

"I'm warnin' ya, Skits."

"We need an earthquake or a war!"

"Skittery—"

"How 'bout a crooked politician?"

"I'll soak ya. Ask the Delanceys."

"Hey stupid, that ain't news no more!"

"Are you done?" I ask, exasperated.

"For now." He winks.

"Forever." I brandish a fist at him.

I make myself a solemn vow. If Sarah breaks Jack's heart…I'm gonna break her ugly little rat face.

**~Author's Note:**

**BIG thank you's to Adalia King, MushSpotGoil and Spot'sAlleyCat for their reviews and to MushSpotGoil, Spot'sAlleyCat, HerminoneandMarcus, and Adalia King for favoriting. **

**lovelovelove,**

**Julianna. ~**


	5. Chapter 5

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Five – Kiss the Girl**

The next morning, it's hot again, and conditions don't improve much once we start selling papers.

"Alright, everyone," Jack announces. "We're gonna sell together today. Yesterday we didn't move much. So today each one of youse needs to get wit someone."

Kid Blink walks up behind me and snakes a hand around my waist. "No," I say loudly and he slinks away, looking disappointed. "It's nothing personal," I call after him.

Everyone starts to infiltrate the streets and Jack, David, and Les walk over to me. "Ready, Jacky?" I say.

"Actually," he says. "I'm working with Les today, so you and David are gonna have to sell together."

David shrugs. I try to use telekinesis to tell Jacky that this is a _very, very, very bad idea,_ but he doesn't seem to be responding well to my psychic powers. None of us say anything, and Les tugs on Jack's shirt to get him to go.

He turns to leave. "Play nice!" he calls over his shoulder at me.

I grumble and look at David. "I ain't happy 'bout this, I'll have you know."

"That makes two of us," he says.

I start to walk away and he follows me reluctantly. "Try to keep up."

We sell all morning, and surprisingly, David is really bad at it. I huff at him. "David! It's called fabricating! You could have had that lady back there in the palm of your hand!"

"But that's dishonest."

I exhale and put my hand on my hip. "If Jacky were here to hear this, he'd laugh at you."

He shrugs and starts selling again. When I am through all my papes, I sit down to wait for him. He saunters over to me, finally, and sits down.

"So, how are you feelin' today?" he asks me.

"How do you think?"

"Angry?"

"You got it, boy." I grin sheepishly at him.

"Why?" he asks.

"Always with the questions," I sigh. "I don't know."

My rage at him has, for now, subsided at least a little bit.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mmhmm," I say distractedly, picking dirt from under my fingernails.

"Do hate me?" he asks innocently.

I laugh at him. "No, David. You just annoy the living hell out of me."

He looks down at his hands. "Oh."

I look over at him anxiously. I didn't really think he was being all that serious, but he looks like a kitten who was left out in the rain.

"Uh," I say. "I was kinda kiddin'. Everyone and their brother annoys me."

"Why?" he asks.

"I have…anger issues."

"I don't think you do," he says.

"What?" I ask in shock. "Have you _met_ me?"

"Yeah, I have," he says. "And I don't think you're angry. I think you're scared and you use your anger as a device to—"

"Know what I think?" I say. "I think you're off ya rocker, Davey-boy."

"Speaking of which." He changes the subject. "I heard you hit your head yesterday."

"Did Jacky tell you that?" I say exasperatedly.

"Yeah."

"He's full of it. I just taught the Delanceys a little lesson, if you know what I mean. And I came up to Jacky all happy and he thought I had a concussion or somethin'."

David laughs. For the first time in a long time, I laugh, too. It was just a really easy conversation, even if it is David and even though I technically hate him. I need some better friends.

"Come on," I say, standing up.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Central Park?"

"Why?"

"Don't question me," I say. "Let's go."

He follows and we walk. It's so hot outside. That annoys me.

Finally, we reach the Park. I settle on a bench and he flops down beside me. I lean back my head and close my eyes happily.

"How much didja make today?" I ask him.

"Twenty-five cents."

My eyes snap open. "How!?"

He smiles and winks. "Secret."

"Boy, you better tell me, son."

"Um…no."

I curl my lip at him. "Don't sass me."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"I'm gonna soak ya," I say, but make no attempt to sit up. "Later."

I close my eyes again. And, here I go, I'm falling asleep.

This time, I am lying on the ground, motionless, while Morris, Oscar, and Sarah stand above me in a circle.

They are laughing. Farther away from us is Jack, but he is looking at Sarah and he can't see me or anyone else.

They are kicking me and beating me and laughing at me. I try to shield my face with my arms but I can't move them. I can't even shut my eyes, I have to watch while they kill me.

I wake up sweating and pressed up against some cloth material. My face is wet. I open my eyes and realize that I have been crying into David's shirt.

Shit. I look up and he is watching me. Even worse. This is bad bad bad bad bad bad. Bad. Did I mention that this is bad? It's, like, really bad!

"Um." I sniff into his chest..

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yep," I say briskly and hop to my feet. "Time to go." I turn my back to him and try to wipe my face off without making it obvious.

He stands up and grabs my wrist. "Wait," he says.

"What is it?" I say uncomfortably.

He just looks at me for a second and I am just about to threaten his life when, in one swift movement, he leans down and plants one right on my mouth.

As quick as that, he is kissing me and a buzzing is moving from my feet to my head. I pull myself away.

"What is _wrong_ with you!?" I scream.

He looks down. "What's wrong with _you_?"

"Me?" I shriek. "I'm not the one going around lip-raping every person I know?"

"Oh no?" he says and I remember the Kid Blink incident.

"That's not the point!" I rage. "He asked for that! Did I ask for _that_!?"

"You are ridiculous."

"Shut up! Just shut your stupid, righteous mouth for like a second, David!"

He clamps his mouth shut and turns away from me, arms crossed.

"Look at me!" I demand and he turns slowly. "I don't know who ya think you are, son, but let me tell you right now that if you _ever _pull one like that again I'm gonna—"

He leans down and defies me, pressing his mouth to mine again and holding my wrists so that I can't move. He pulls away, proud and defiant.

The air seems to have left my lungs and I am shell-shocked for a minute.

"You're gonna what?" he asks.

"Do this!" I say angrily and draw back a tightly clenched fist. Then, I punch him in the face and storm away.

Sucker got served.

**~Author's Note:**

**MushSpotgoil: Haha, thanks. Oh, Sarah. She will get hers.**

**writer24: Thank youuu. I love Kid Blink also, but here I decided to kinda expand on the whole "met this girl last night," "Saturday night with the mayor's daughter" aspect of him. 3. **

**xxVelociraptorLovexx: Everyone thinks that. It's a common misperception that I don't understand. But thank you. P.S. I know it's you, Jodi. **

**Thanks again to anyone who reviewed, or favorited. I love you all, my darlings. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It is one of my favorites, and the next few deal with the same sort of things. **

**ALSO, I wrote a sort of "alternative ending" for Chapter Three that is kinda funny. Let me know if you want me to post it, lovers. **

**lovelovelove,**

**Julianna~**


	6. Chapter 6

_**RAGE  
**_

**Chapter 6 – Shake Tramp**

I am so infuriated as I walk home, that I can hardly walk straight. I keep bumping into people and when they give me a dirty look, I shriek at them that they can go die in a hole.

My vision makes a streak of red all over everything in front of me. I am absolutely livid.

But the question is, am I mad at Davey or at myself?

When I storm into the restaurant, I have still not calmed down. The Manhattan newsies and the Brooklyn newsies are gathered around one big table in the middle of the restaurant.

I slam myself down into a seat between Mush and Skittery. Jacky looks at me from across the table but I ignore him cause this is all his fault anyways.

Mush and Skits lean on their elbows closer to me. "What happened?" asks Mush.

"David. Kissed. Me," I manage to spit out, like acid from my tongue.

"Aww!" exclaims Mush. "How sweet!"

"Mushy!"

"What?"

"I don't like him!"

"Oh," he says, his face turning from delight to disgust. "What a ninny!"

"That sucker!" Skits says. "I'll soak him!"

"I punched him in the face," I say.

"It's a start," he says.

"Where is he?" Mushy looks around wildly.

"I don't know," I say. "I left him."

"Let's find him!" he says to Skits. "Let's hit him so hard his _grandchildren_ feel it!"

"Let's knock him into the middle of next week!" says Skits.

They stand up, rearin' to go, but just then, David walks through the door. He looks shifty and uncomfortable and there is blood from his nose caked on his face.

"What the hell happened to _you_?" asks Jack.

"David?" says Les. "Did someone hit you? Do you want me to soak 'em?"

"No," says David. "I'm fine."

"What didja do, fall down the stairs?" sniggers Conlon.

"Rage punched me in the face." He gives me a dirty look.

"Rage!" Skits chides sarcastically. "How many times I gotta tell ya not to hit girls?"

"What did ya do to her?" Spot roars with laughter.

"I kissed her."

Kid Blink bursts out laughing hysterically. "You got served!"

They all laugh uproariously and I cross my arms in satisfaction.

Kid Blink laughs so hard, that I think he stopped breathing at one point.

I look at Jacky, and he is not amused. Okay, maybe a little. That girls comment was damn funny.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

"Rage!" Jacky roars at me when we are back at the Lodging House and alone in the bunk room.

"What!?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Ever heard of self-defense, Cowboy?"

"Defense from _what_ exactly?" he yells.

"From _him_! Why aren't you mad at _him_?"

"Because he didn't punch you in the face!"

"Who cares!" I scream.

"Me!" he yells. "Listen, Rage. He asked me to let you two work together, okay? I told him that ain't a good idea, but he said he don't care."

"WHAT!?"

Jacky rolls his eyes. "You got to listen better. David. Likes. You."

"That's ridiculous! Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I think I just did," he says calmly.

"You are _so_ lying." I narrow my eyes at him.

He starts to walk out. "I know you're mad. Come get me if you wanna talk, but I ain't gonna talk to you right now."

I throw myself onto the nearest bed and pound the mattress with my fists, screaming into the pillow. Then I lay limp with my face down on the pillow, full of the smell of someone's hair.

Someone walks into the room. "Oh," he says. "Ya waitin' for me?"

I look up and see Kid Blink and realize that I am on his bed. "Shut up."

"So, you weren't lying on my bed for any specific reason?"

"No, I wasn't," I say nastily. "Get over yourself."

"Rude!" he says and sits down on the end of the mattress. "Listen, though. I'm real proud of yas for hittin' David in the face."

"You're _proud_ of me?"

"I think you did the right thing," he says. "You're a real good fighter, you know that?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "I know what you're tryin' to do, sucker."

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," he says, winking.

"Yeah, right," I say, and lay back against the mattress. "Try anything and I swear it'll be the last thing ya do."

He chuckles and lays down next to me. "So I ain't got a single chance, huh?"

"Maybe if ya play your cards right, but chances look slim."

Now I begin to wonder why I am even playing along with his stupid little game. Then I realize that it's probably because I _always_ play along with his perverted sport. It's like me and Jacky screaming at each other: it's just what me and Blink do, that's the kind of friends we are.

Is it possible that David was right about me? Am I _that kind of girl_? Am I worse than his sister, who at least—

I am crushed beneath the warm heat of Kid Blink.

"Not _again,_" I mumble.

"It's been, like, a month!" he says angrily.

He is lying on top of me and holding my arms down so I can't struggle. I try to fight him off but then I just go limp and let him.

"Ah, you're no fun," he says, lifting himself off of me and sitting up.

"What, you only like me when I fight back?"

"I like girls with a little struggle in them," he says.

"I like guys with two eyes, but I guess that's never gonna happen, hmm? Or was that mean?"

"You're just jealous."

"Of what? Your super-fabulous eye patch? I don't think so, Mister Blink."

He tackles me again and I try to fight him off. "Will you _stop it_," I groan.

"Not till the day I die," he proclaims.

We are still writhing when the door creaks open. We both look up, and who would be standing there, but the infamous, the one and only renowned David Jacobs.

"Oh, so it's okay for _him_ to do it?" he says. He's in a bad mood…I wonder why.

"No," I say, running my fingernails through Blink's hair "But I let him."

Kid Blink kisses my neck affectionately. It is understood that we are going to mess with David's head as much as possible by acting this way, even though it pretty much makes me completely nauseas.

"Anyway," says David coldly. "I came to, you know…apologize."

"For what?" I say, trying to sound clueless.

"Don't you remember anything that happened today?"

"'Course I do. I just wanna hear ya say it, Davey-boy."

"Well," he says stiffly. "I'd like to apologize for, um, trying to be affectionate to you."

While he is saying this, Blink is stroking my hair and I am wrapping an arm around his neck while leaning closer to him.

"Well, in that case, I accept your apology," I say. "You can go now."

He stands stock still in the doorway but makes no attempt to leave.

"You gotta problem?" Blink asks intensely.

"No, of course not," says David, and leaves in a bad temper.

We wait a few minutes, me sitting still and Blink moving his hands up and down my back.

"Will ya quit that?" I ask him fiercely when I feel that Davey is out of earshot of us.

He looks at me and starts laughing. I join him and say, "That was pretty great wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he says. "I really enjoyed it."

"Good acting," I compliment him.

"Who was acting?" he asks.

"Um. Me?"

"Well I wasn't," he says and attempts to start again, but I hold him off by punching him squarely in the stomach.

"Ugh," he groans.

"Sorry," I say non-sympathetically, heading toward the door. "You know I love you. Like a brother," I add.

"Well, that's awkward," he says. "Damn good thing you don't have a brother, 'cause I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon in most societies."

"Hah," I say. "You're so funny."

"Aren't I?" he says.

"Shut the hell up."

"Never!"

"I'm leaving now."

"Good riddance."

"Bye!"

"Fare thee well."

"You're a nerd."

"I hate you."

"I hate you more than you hate me."

"I thought you loved me."

"I lie."

"You're stupid."

"You have cooties."

"Leave!"

I decide not to fight him. I've already made a guy bleed today, and though one a day isn't usually satisfying, it was David this time and that might just hold me off for about three days. Okay, two and a half.

I walk out into the other room, where everyone is sitting around talking.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately in the case that I can mess with him more), David is gathered around as well. They all look up when I arrive.

"Hey, look who's joinin' us," says Skits. "It's the best girl newsie around!"

"_Stop_ _calling me that!_" I say, annoyed, but settle onto the couch next to him anyways.

I see David watching me, so I cuddle even closer to Skits and lean my head upon his shoulder. He leans down and gives me a "what do you think you are doing?" look and I whisper to him super-quiet.

"I'm makin' David jealous, won't you assist me?" I say. "It's fun."

"Okay," he agrees, grinning.

His arm finds its way around my waist and he pulls me onto his lap, where I sit stroking his hands. He rests his chin on top of my head and I catch Davey looking at us.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

**~Author's Note:**

**Thanks to scorch rider247 and Mids-all-the-way for favoriting and to MushSpotgoil for reviewing.**

**ALSO, updates every Thursday from now on. Please R&R, darlings**

**Lovelovelove,**

**Julianna.~**


	7. Chapter 7

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Seven – All Shook Up**

I love my friends, don't get me wrong. And I know that if I wanted things to be _more_ than they were, they would all be more than willing.

The years I've spent on the streets of New York City have hardened my body. The sun has tanned my face and lightened my hair.

But my experience with these boys has taught me that it's best to keep them only as friends. So certainly you would understand the dilemma at hand: if I continue to make David jealous in this way, my friends will definitely get the wrong idea about me.

_But_, how fun is it to know that I'm screwing with his brain?

So I suppose that is what has led me into this situation that I am in currently, sitting on one of my best friends' laps, acting as though he is my lover, while he acts as if he is mine.

"I've got to go," says David after a few uncomfortable minutes of conversation.

"It's rude to eat and run, ya know," says Racetrack.

"I didn't eat anything…" he says.

"That's not the point."

"Okay," he says. "Well, I guess I'll have to be rude, then. Come on, Les, let's get outta here."

Les hops up and rushes to his brother's side. David looks particularly depressed and forlorn and, much to my chagrin, I feel a little pang of guilt.

I shake my head. I need to stop thinking like this.

If I don't, the next thing I know I'll have to start being—gulp—nice to him. Ugh.

He leaves and I hop down off of Skits's lap. "Thanks for that," I say to him.

"Anytime," he says.

I know he means that literally. Jacky casts me a disapproving look. What is it with him lately? You'd think he's in love with David himself.

"So," I ask him casually. "Talked to Sarah in the past couple days?"

"No," he snaps. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Just wondering."

He looks at me with suspicion. "What are you up to, girl?"

"Nothin'. What makes you think I'm up to somethin'?"

"Because I _know_ you," he replies. "What'd ya do?"

"_Nothin'_, Jacky. I told ya that. Don't you trust me?"

"Yeah," he says reluctantly. "But I don't believe ya."

"Well, believe it, pal."

I glance sideways at Skits and he starts cracking up. It's takes all my strength not to join him.

"I'm going to bed," he sighs and stands up.

"Me too," I say and wait for any others but they all just sit there so I follow Jacky. "Jacky," I say to him once we are in the room.

"Hm?" he says, yawning.

"I'm, um, you know, like, sorry?"

"Huh," he says. "Don't think I've heard that outta your mouth before. What do ya want?"

"Nothing," I say angrily. "Why is it that I'm always doing somethin' just to get somethin' outta it, huh?"

"Uh, 'cause it's _you_, Rage."

"Okay, I'll tell ya what I want. I want to go back to before David was even a part of this. I miss having you as a friend, and screaming at you, and not wanting to pulverize you constantly."

"Do ya really?" he asks me.

"Yeah. That's what I just said, ain't it?" My temper flares up rapidly.

"Okay, okay," he says. "All you have to do is just be nice to David."

My shoulders slump "But…" I whine.

"Look, just try it, you know? You might actually like him, he's a great fella—"

"No!" I cry. "I mean, I'll try it. For you. But I will never, ever, in a thousand years like David Jacobs. No, I refuse."

"Suit yourself." He snuggles into bed with a smug expression on his face.

I sigh. Tomorrow will be tougher than…well, me. Which is pretty tough.

"Goodnight, Jacky-boy," I say, leaning over to hug him.

"Night," he slurs sleepily, already far past this world and wrapped up in dreaming.

I start to hum unfamiliar chords that are coming from somewhere inside me. Then, words form, "—Where does it say you gotta live and die here?"

Oh, no. I clamp my hand over my mouth. It's happening to me, too. Outside the window, a horse neighs. I lean over the ledge and shout at it.

"Shoo! Go away now!"

It trots away glumly, its saddle swaying sadly.

I collapse into bed, and I hear all the other newsies come in and lay down not long after. I pretend to be in a coma when Kid Blink pokes me in attempts to wake me up.

I have trouble sleeping that night. I toss and turn in my bed and kick my sheets to the ground.

Race, who sleeps underneath my bunk, grumbles, "Knock it off up there, Romeo. Some of us gotta sleep."

"I'm over here!" calls Kid Blink from across the room.

"Who's up there?" says Race sleepily.

"It's just me!" I say. "Shut the hell up and go back to sleep!"

"What are you doing up there?" Blink asks.

"Well, I _was_ sleeping until you ding-dongs had to wake me up."

Their heads dropped back onto their pillows and in less time than none they were fast asleep again. I sigh and roll over onto my side, willing myself to rest. Sometime around one a.m., I finally drop off to sleep.

The next morning at dawn, I am awoken by Jacky shaking me violently. I slap at his arms drowsily.

"Gerroff me," I mumble.

"Gotta get up," he says.

"Go away."

"Nope." He pesters me. "I don't wanna be awake neither, but ya gotta get up."

I sit up, swing my legs over the side of the bunk, and hop down. I slide my feet all the way over to the bathroom.

"Mornin', everyone!" tweets Mushy happily. "Today's gonna be a good day, I can just feel it!"

Morning people annoy me.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….....

By lunchtime, I have succeeded fairly well in avoiding David by selling with Mushy all day.

We are doing well when he walks over to us. Why is he so relentless? Does he think I've forgotten about the incident?

Does he care that I can't stand him?

Persistent people annoy me.

"Hi, guys," he says, falling in step with Mushy. Mushy looks at me and then we move closer to each other.

"How ya doin'," says Mushy. It's not really a question. It's more an invitation to go away now.

"Good. Selling much today?"

"Yeah," I say. "Mushy is really good at it."

He looks at me and I wink inconspicuously. "Aw, thanks, Rage," he says.

"You're welcome," I say, and we hug.

For quite a long time. David just stands there, hands in pocket, looking particularly awkward. Good.

Finally, we pull out of the hug. We continue to walk, now holding hands. We are making a shortcut to Times Square through an alleyway, when we happen upon the Delanceys.

"How sweet," sneers Morris, looking at Mushy and I. "But I'm afraid me and Oscar are gonna hafta break this little lovefest up."

"Youse all talk, Morphodite," I spit in his direction.

"Oh, is he now?" smirks Oscar.

"Yeah," says David, stepping between me and the Delanceys. "Now, get outta here."

I push past him so I'm facing the brothers again. "I got this," I say to David.

"Oh, no, no, no," says Morris. "If he's prepared to protect ya, then let's let him, what do ya say, Oscar?"

"Agreed," he says and they shove me aside to get to David. They start by punching him in the stomach. As soon as his fist makes contact with David, an anger surges in me from somewhere deep.

The fury that fills me is absolutely hellish. I scream and jump with all of my force onto Morris's weasely spine. I kick and punch him with all my might and when Oscar attempts to pull me off of his brother, I punch him in the face.

I jump down off of his back and kick him to the ground with force. Then, I stoop with my knees on his chest and pound his face with my fists, letting all of my contained anger slip into my balled hands.

"Don't. You. Ever. Touch. Him. Again," I grunt through punches. I continue to beat him.

David and Mushy are holding Oscar back, it takes the both of them, and when I am done with Morris I start on Oscar.

"Let 'im go, boys," I say to Mushy and Davey.

They release him and he tries to run but I tackle him with a running jump. He falls to the ground hard, and this knocks the wind out of him. All the better for me.

I grab his head by the hair and smash his face into the gravel. Then I rub his bloody face into the ground. "If you EVER even think about comin' near him or any of my other friends, I'm gonna kill ya."

I lift his head again by pulling his hair, lean down, and knee him in the face, breaking his nose. I let his face fall again, and they both lay limp on the ground.

"Bastards," I say to them. "Let's see ya do _that _again."

"Come on," I say to David and Mushy, who are looking at me with expressions of amazement.

"That was great!" says Mushy when we are far enough away, pulling me into his arms.

"Thanks, bro," I say. I look at David from over Mushy's shoulder.

He is smiling at me. "Thanks for that," he says.

"No problem. No one beats up my Davey," I say. He looks flattered until I say, "That's my job."

His smile falters a little. "Just kiddin'," I say.

"Thanks." I pull away from Mushy and clap David on the shoulder.

He pulls me into a hug. I pat him on the back gingerly. "Let's not get carried away now, hm?" I say into his ear.

But in reality, I could fall asleep in those arms.

What the hell's the matter with me?

**~Author's Note:**

**Okay, so apparently I was born without a functioning brain, and posted, like, Chapter 7 from my sister's story and not mine. FML. So I am truly sorry and I hope you don't all hate me as much as I hate myself. **

**Just kidding…sorta. hearts. **

**But without FURTHER adieu…**

**HUGE thanks to cailin baire conlon and MushSpotgoil and awkward qail for the reviews, and thanks to anyone who favorited. **

**So anyways, hope you all enjoy the chapter. Please R&R. **

**Updates every Thursday, lovers!**

**lovelovelove, **

**Julianna.~**


	8. Chapter 8

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Eight – Faking My Own Suicide**

He releases me, and I stagger away a little thunderstruck. He looks down at me but I cannot meet his gaze.

He, Mush, and I walk away and down the street. My brain is not functioning correctly and I feel as though I am not even awake: I don't remember where I am or where I am going.

I realize that this is because I am not angry. I am self-controlled and…content?

I shake it off, or try to. I am leading the two of them up the street, but I don't know where I'm going. Again, my feet carry me to places that I don't remember wishing to go. We stop at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge, again.

David and I look at each other. I glance at Mushy.

"Wanna go see Spot?" I ask them.

"Why?" asks Mush.

"No reason." I shrug. "I'm bored."

"Uh, okay," he says.

I am betting that Spot will probably make me angry, so that I can get out of this uncomfortable and calm mindset that Davey has put me in. It feels foreign and I don't like it.

What would I do without my anger? What if someone needed a good sound beating, and I wasn't able to deliver it? Without rage, I am undefined.

I am nameless.

The thought of staying like this chills me to the bone. A good dose of Spot Conlon is sure to make anyone angry enough to punch a kitten, am I right?

David sighs. "It's hot."

"Try to me a man," I tell him.

"I am," he says.

"Then stop complainin'."

"I wasn't complaining."

"What were you doing then?"

"Stating a fact."

"You were complainin'. Listen, buddy, if you can't stand the heat, I'll gladly turn around and let you go home so you don't strain yourself. Is that what you want?"

"No," he says pointedly.

"Then stop whining."

"I wasn't—"

"Will you two stop!?" cries Mushy. "You're like an old married couple!"

"Sorry, baby," I say, patting him lovingly on the back.

"Hmph," he says, smirking at my name-calling.

David gives me a weird look. "What?" I snap at him.

"Nothing."

I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and put my hands on my hips. "What is it?"

"Nothing!"

"I ain't goin' nowhere till you tells me."

"It's just…" he says, glancing at Mushy. He pulls me aside so he can't hear us. "Are you two…?"

"No," I laugh. "He's like my brother." I shudder. "No. God. No, I love him like a little brother."

He looks relieved. "Okay, then."

"Listen, David," I say. "This whole thing…Look, I know how you feel about me—"

He starts to say something. "Don't interrupt," I continue. "And the thing is, right now, I just don't feel the same," I lie. "And I'm, um, like, sorry. But the good news is, I don't hate you nearly as much as I hated you this morning."

"But you still hate me." He looks down at his shoes.

I put a hand on his shoulder and he looks up. I meet his gaze briefly. "No, I don't. I don't hate you, okay?"

He nods. His eyes are blank; unyielding any sign that something inside him has changed slightly.

"Oh, and if you tell anyone I said that…" I smacked my fist against my palm.

He gave a little smile. "Got it."

We walk back over to Mushy who is leaning against the bridge looking annoyed. I hug him.

"Get off." He swats at me. "It's too hot for that kind of nonsense."

"Ah, quit it, Mushy, baby. You're acting like a girl."

He grimaces at me. "Look who's talkin'."

"Great," I mutter to myself, lagging behind.

My shoes scuff the sidewalk sadly. David's eyes are still vacant, and I can't think of a single thing that I hate about him now. Except his sister.

O, Cursed One! *Shakes fist at sky*

I wonder again why I have to lie and say it won't work.

I realize that I don't want to give up what I have now, the life where I can do basically whatever I want without having to worry, what would happen if I got hurt, would it hurt someone else in return?

What if I spend the night in a bunk that is not my own, if word got out would I kill someone inside?

Why should I have to go through all my days worrying about someone else, and holding onto them like a breath?

I peer over the edge of the Bridge as we walk. What if I jumped, would Davey jump too?

And then, since my brain hates me, I decide to find out….

Okay, I'm not gonna throw myself facefirst from the Brooklyn Bridge. I'm just going to test him a little.

I stop walking and since both Mushy and Davey are ahead of me, they don't notice at first. I take a deep breath and climb onto the side of the bridge, where there is just enough room for my feet on the concrete ledger overlooking the water.

The hot air ripples and in slow motion, I see David and Mush turn around.

A humming fills my ears, a mixture of adrenaline and fear as I see Mush mouth the words, "Oh my God."

I see Davey's eyes fall on me and widen. "What is she doing!?" he mouths.

Then, somehow, the world switches back to regular speed as he rushes over to me.

I see him moving in my direction, a muscle jumping in his jaw in anger.

I am distracted by this, for only a second, but that's all it takes for me to sway and then lose my balance.

The next thing I know, my feet have disengaged and I am proceeding headfirst toward the black and damning water.

Wind whistles in my ears.

**~Author's Note:**

**I know I said updates every Thursday. But guess what: I'm impatient and didn't feel like waiting, and also, about 72 people decided to update their stories and boot me out of the first result slot. So that was nice of them. **

**Anywho. Thanks to cailin baire conlon and MushSpotgoil for the reviews and messages. **

**Please R&R. **

**lovelovelove, Julianna.~ **


	9. Chapter 9

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Nine – Miserable At Best**

The wind whistles in my ears. And, blood as it soaks my hair is warm. That is all that I remember.

That, and the sight of David's eyes as they fill to the brim with terror, as with tears.

They are so blue, as if he had thought of rain.

The rest is blackness and falling.

I wake up in the back of a carriage, being jolted around roughly by the horses running at full speed. I blink my eyelids open, they feel as heavy as led. My head throbs and it feels as if a ton of bricks is crushing the top of my head.

I groan miserably and look up. I am laying horizontally with my head in David's lap. I touch a hand cautiously to my head; there is thick bandaging there, it feels like.

"She's waking up," I hear David's voice say. "Thank God."

"Shouldn't've let her go to sleep at all," says an unfamiliar voice. "Had a cousin once who hit 'is head and fell asleep thinkin' it was just a bruise. Never woke up again."

"Alright!" says David. "Enough!"

He looks down at me. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"I think so," I say and try to look up at him. I can't see his face, but—skin.

I sit up quickly; too quickly. There is a rush of blood to my head and it makes it pound even harder; it feels like it's going to explode.

"Oh," I say without realizing it. "Ow."

"Maybe you should lay down?" David suggests meekly.

"Why, so that—"

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm too tired to be sarcastic."

I glance over at him and then double-take. "Are you sure you're alright? We're going to have to call a doctor when we get you home…"

"Mind telling me why you aren't wearing a shirt?"

"Your head," he says. "You were bleeding a lot, Rage."

"Oh," I say, trying not to look at his bare chest and stomach as that is only making my head spin more.

"Right here's fine," Dave says to the driver. He pays him and helps me out but I shake him off.

"Wait," I say. "Where's Mushy?"

"He, um, didn't want to come with us."

"Why?" I demand groggily. "Where exactly are _we_ going?"

"Don't worry," he says. "It'll be okay."

I look at him and plant my feet firmly on the ground. "Tell me where we're going."

"I'm taking you home."

Home…the words don't make sense. I am falling again and then—

David is carrying me up a flight of stairs. I am too exhausted and weak to say anything, to make him put me down, to tell him how shameful this is. I just curl my face into his chest and black out again.

In the morning, I wake up in an unfamiliar bed. I am warm and my head is still throbbing but it does not hurt nearly as much as before.

There is bright light streaming in from a window somewhere and it is silent, the peace undisturbed; this is clue one that I am definitely not at the Lodging House and probably am dreaming this.

Clue two is that I do not recognize the bed. Clue three is that David is here and he doesn't live at the Lodging House.

Clues three and four are that I remember being held onto by Davey-boy last night, and I know that I would have killed him had I been awake and that Sarah is standing over me, changing my head bandage.

"Get off of me," I say to her. She purses her lips and walks away.

"I will never understand what he sees in you…" she mutters.

"Likewise!" I call after her.

David is sitting slumped in a chair beside the bed. It looks as if he has slept there all night. His eyes blink open slowly. He looks at me and smiles.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Like my head just got steam-rolled." I sit up in bed. "What happened?"

"You were about to jump off of the Brooklyn bridge."

"I remember that," I say. "But I'm pretty sure ya can't get a concussion from hittin' your head on water."

"Well, no, you can't. You're right." He sighs. "I pulled you off of the edge of the bridge and you swung backwards to fight me off. You fell onto the road and cracked your head a little."

"My skull's cracked!?"

"Barely. There was just a little hairline crack, but it was bleeding a lot and your head got pretty scratched up," he says.

"You have a black eye, Davey-boy," I notice.

He chuckles. "You punched me when you were trying to fight me off."

"Sorry," I offer.

"Don't worry," he says, and I let the words wash over me like cool waters. "I'm not mad cause you punched me."

I settle back onto the cushy pillows lined up against my back.

He continues, "But…"

"Hm?"

"I _am_ mad that you tried to do yourself in. What got _into_ you!? Have you got _any_ idea what you would do to me, or any of your friends, if you did that?" he shouts.

"I wasn't tryin' to jump off the bridge," I say quietly.

"What were you doing then, trying to get a scenic view of Brooklyn?"

"No," I say, trying to smile. "I just wanted to see what you'd do."

He snorts. "You could've asked."

I roll my eyes. "That's _so _much less dramatic, though."

"I don't care. I thought…"

"What?"

Just then, Davey's brother and sister walk in. "Hey, Rage!" Les calls, excited.

"Hey, Les. How ya doin', boy?" I ask him.

He grins and nods. "Good, good."

I smile at him. Sarah ignores me, humming to herself. "What will become of the boy…" she sings.

"Quiet down, Sarah," says Davey. "That never even got in the movie."

"What movie?" say Les and I.

He ignores us. "Sarah? Les? Can you two go in the other room? Rage and I need to talk."

I gulp.

Les happily skips into another room, but Sarah snoots, "I know when I'm not wanted!" and flouts out of the room in a hissy fit.

I turn back to David warily. He gives me an ice-cold look.

"You're so selfish," says David.

"How am _I _selfish? You're the one who's having a conniption fit right now."

"You almost _killed_ yourself cause you wanted to get a reaction out of me!"

"So_ what?_"

"_So_, what would you do if I jumped of the bridge?"

A tremor runs through my body and I close my eyes, willing the thought away. "Don't even say that," I say quietly through clenched teeth.

"Exactly," he says, his eyes never leaving my face.

My eyes linger on his but I can't look for long, less I get sucked in. He reaches a hand over to me to touch the place where my face is swollen. A purplish bruise twists from my temple down to below my cheekbone.

His fingers barely brush my skin and I wince.

Not because it hurt, but because it didn't hurt. Not because it burned, but because I wanted him to touch my face like that. I turn away from him because I don't want to want him.

But I do. And he knows it, I think.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking me in the eyes.

He touches my shoulder and without thinking, I turn my face back to his. He is looking at me deeply and it is obvious that he is strongly considering something. I try not to make eye contact.

He leans down and I can feel the heat rolling off of his shoulders. I can hear his breathing and smell his hair.

He presses his lips to mine, as gentle as air. Warm, warm, cute-boyish air. I lean into him and try to get up the will to pull away from him, but I don't.

I reach up and wind my hands in his mass of curly hair and pull him closer. His hand is warm on my shoulder blade.

I am falling forward, at least in my head. When he pulls his face away I nearly tip out of the bed. I was being held upright by him and now that he isn't as close, I am recklessly falling.

I wish I could have pulled away. (I didn't want to)

I wish I had never met David. (I'm gonna soak Cowboy)

I wish I hadn't hit my head (I'm losing my mind)

I wish he wasn't so gorgeous (He is)

I wish he didn't have a control of me (This sucks)

I wish I was angry (I'm not, when I am with him, I am calm)

I wish that he wasn't Sarah's brother (I still hate her).

**~Author's Note: Okay, so. I know I said I would update like every Thursday. But forget it. I'm gonna get all the chapters out there soon. I'm KINDA working on the sequel, but I don't know what will happen yet. Suggestions?**

**  
There are sixteen chapters of Rage total. So y'all have seven left. **

**Also, in light of recent events, I have decided that it may be best to delete my account. I don't necessarily WANT to do this, but it has come to my attention that is more trouble than it's worth. Opinions?**

**I'll continue to write on, of course, and if you're personally interested in my work after I delete my account (IF I do) then you can always read it. **

**Please continue to R&R. **

**lovelovelove,**

**Julianna.~**


	10. Chapter 10

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Ten – Cross My Heart**

I am fading to and from sleep as bright light streams in the window. I close my eyes in vain when there is a knock on the door.

"Who would be here at this hour?" I hear Sarah ask.

"What are you talking about?" Les asks her. "It's the middle of the day."

"Some people…" she mutters, throwing the door open. "Jack!" she exclaims.

I lean over the edge of the bed, trying not to vomit. Some people indeed.

I hear someone stomping closer and closer to where I am. I gulp and wonder to myself if I am too weak to beat someone.

I decide that, no, I am never too weak to beat someone.

Jacky-boy storms into the room and I jump out of bed in excitement. "Jacky!"

I wrap my arms around his middle but he shakes me off.

"RAGE!" he shouts. "What's the matter with you!?"

I look down at my bare feet and wiggle my toes. How come you can't move that one in the middle?

"Why would you try to kill yourself? What were you thinkin'?"

I still don't say anything. Dude. Toes are weird lookin'.

"You have no idea what I woulda done if you had died! Or what David woulda done! Don't ya care about anyone other than yourself!?" he rages at me.

They're like tiny fingers except all stubby—

"ANSWER ME!" he screams.

I look at up at him angrily. "Shut up, Jack," I say quietly.

"Don't shut me up!"

"Jack!" I yell. "I'm okay now, alright? Me and Dave already talked, so leave me the hell alone."

He throws down his arms in anger. "How could you," he whispers.

"How could I what?" I ask, crossing my uncovered arms over my chest, a cool breeze from the windows playing over my skin.

He looks up at me, tormented. "I thought…"

"What?" I demand harshly.

"I thought I was going to lose you."

I look at him and laugh. "You're jokin' right?"

He looks at me and his tortured face tells me clearly, _no._

"Jacky," I say, touching his shoulder cautiously. "I wasn't really gonna jump, baby."

Just then Sarah bursts in, as if she has been waiting outside the door. "What did you just call him?" she demands, a I-caught-you-in-the-act look on her ugly face.

"Stop it, Sarah, please. She didn't mean it. She calls everyone that."

"Sure she does!" she accuses.

"Sarah," says Jack. "We'll talk later."

She bursts into tears and storms out the door, calling, "I know when I'm not wanted!"

Jack looks annoyed now when he turns back to me. I snicker. "Why do you put up with her?"

"Sometimes," he says. "I just don't know."

I smirk. "I don't wanna say 'I told you so,'—"

"Then don't. Smart ass. Don't try to distract me."

"Distract you? What ever are you talking about, my dearest Jack?" I say the last part really loud.

"Rage," he says. "Listen to me." He takes a deep breath. "It's hard for me to say all this mushy-gushy stuff alright?"

Les pops his head in. "Real mushy-gushy!" he exclaims and ducks out.

"But I'm gonna say in anyways," he continues, ignoring Les, taking a deep breath. I look around nervously. Mushy-gushy people annoy me. "My life would suck without you."

I exhale, thinking that he's done. That wasn't so bad. "Thanks—"

"And," he continues. "You're my best friend. If it wasn't for you…and, um, Sarah," he says pointedly. "then I wouldn't bother hangin' around this worthless city no more."

"Thanks, Jack," I say, trying to get him to stop talking all this nonsense.

"Hold on, I ain't done. You're like a sister to me, Rage. I…I can't live without you. There, I'm done now."

"I'll have you know that I wasn't trying to kill myself," I tell him.

He stares at me. "Davey said you didn't need a doctor, but I'm starting to wonder…"

"What's a doctor going to do?" I ask. "Lock me up in some loony-bin?"

He shakes his head. "Well," he says. "I'd better go console Sarah. She probably thinks that I'm like engaged to you or something."

I clear my throat. "About that…"

"Hm?"

"Oh, nothing," I say dismissively.

"Okay…Well, now that you're awake, I'll send David in." He is halfway through the door.

"No," I groan but he doesn't hear me.

I try to prepare myself. I sit down on the edge of the bed, conscious of the sleeveless shirt that I have on.

Davey walks in. "Hi," I say weakly.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Better," I say.

"Good." He pauses. "Not to impose, but, are you going back to the Lodging House?"

"Do you want me to?"

He closes his eyes. "Not particularly. But you should."

I exhale heavily. "David," I say. "You know this still ain't gonna work, right?"

He looks at me longingly. "Why not?"

I look at him. "You shouldn't see me," I say stiffly. "I'm no good. I'll just hurt you. Just find yourself a nice girl, okay, Davey?"

"So, basically," he says. "You just want me to get over you?"

"Yeah," I lie.

He looks down and nods. "Guess I will then. But, Rage?"

"Hm?"

He walks over to me and sits down next to me. His leg brushes mine as he turns to face me. "Could I? Just one more time?"

I blink furiously, trying not to cry. I nod. "Yes," I say quietly, and he kisses me so gently that I almost black out again.

I don't realize that I'm crying until he stops. "What's wrong?" he whispers. I don't answer and he stands up.

"You better get dressed if you wanna walk back home with Cowboy," he says. "I'll leave."

He exits the room, I keep thinking about his question. What's wrong?

_What is wrong?  
_

"I am," I say out loud to nobody.

**~Author's Note:**

**So. Thank you to Adalia King and MushSpotgoil for the lovely reviews. I'm not going to delete my stories, FYI, at least not right now. I appreciate the support. X)**

**Please continue to R&R. **

**  
lovelovelove, Julianna.~**


	11. Chapter 11

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Eleven – Just The Girl**

Fifteen minutes later, I am standing by David's door next to Cowboy. I am fully clothed and washed and ready to leave. Unfortunately, Cowboy is not.

He is fully clothed (thankfully), and washed (I assume), but he isn't at all ready to leave. Sarah won't let go of him.

I look at an imaginary watch on my wrist. I shift my weight to one foot and put my hand to my hip. I sigh loudly, trying to drop a hint.

Finally, I throw all caution to the wind. I grab the back of Jacks collar and pull him by the neck to the doorway.

"Bye, Sarah," I say sweetly. "Bye, Les. David."

David rushes out to hug me. He puts his arms around me but I extend an arm to his chest. "Don't," I say.

He looks stricken but I turn away to catch up with Jack. He is waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me.

"What took so long?" he asks.

I give him a haughty look. "Don't even."

My head still hurts. There are black spots all over my vision. I walk a little off-balance.

"Are you okay?" Jack asks, his eyes darting in my direction.

"Peachy," I mumble.

"So what's with you and Dave?" he asks me casually.

"What are you talking about," I say through clenched teeth.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I really don't."

"Look," he says. "You can't fool me, so don't even try."

I exhale. "I'm only tellin' you this," I warn. "You better not pass this along to none of our little buddies."

"'Course I won't."

"I, um, you know, like, I like him," I confess. "But I can't…I can't, you know, _see_ him…"

"Why not?"

I am dumbstruck. "I don't know. It just wouldn't, you know, work. I'm too…free right now. I mean, I pretty much run the risk of bein' killed every day—"

"I'm aware," he interrupts.

"Shh. And the whole thing with Blink and all…"

I wish I had a girl friend (notice the space). I imagine she would be giggling right now, not just staring awkwardly at the ground like Jack is doing. Then again, giggling is annoying as hell.

"About that," he says.

"What?"

"Blink said he heard you sayin' his name in your sleep the other night."

I am enraged. "First of all, why is he watchin' me sleep? Second of all, why are you talkin' 'bout me in cahoots?"

"Well, first of all, I don't know why he was watchin' you sleepin'. I got the idea that you woke him up by sayin' his name. And secondly, we weren't really talkin'. He was more _boasting._"

"Boasting? Why would he be boasting?"

Jack shrugs. "I guess he thought it was somethin' to be proud of." I am still confused. "I don't know, okay? We're men. We talk about women."

"Men, my ass."

"That too."

"What? Men? Or my ass?"

"Umm. No comment."

I slap his arm. "Jerk."

"So tell me…" he starts. "Do you like Dave? Or do you like Blink?"

I haven't even considered the possibility that I might like Blink. I mean, how could I like someone that I hate? How could I like someone that I don't even know I like?

My vision blurs and the sun is unusually hazy. I swoon, and just before I black out, I feel Jack's arms catch me. I slip easily into a dream, comforted by the safety of Jack.

When I wake up, I am in bed again, but all the soothing feelings that have been with me the past few days (from David and Jack) are not with me. I am aching all over.

I am back in my bed at the Lodging House. It is a few bleary seconds until I realize that I am not alone in the room.

Jack and Kid Blink are sitting on a bed across from mine.

Blink stands and peers down at me. "How ya doin' down there?" Then he chuckles to himself. "That's what the mayor's daughter said."

"What?" says Jack. "That didn't make no sense."

"I'm fine, thank you. You may leave."

"Don't be rude," he says. "Me and Jack, we been waitin' for you to wake up for the past three days."

I sit bolt upright. My head spins. "Have I really been out that long?"

Jack rolls his eyes. "I carried you back here after you fainted. It's been about an hour."

I throw back the covers and stand up quickly to punch Kid Blink in the kisser. Too quickly. Something in my brain pulses and my knees go out beneath me.

Kid Blink deftly swoops down to catch me. I look up at him. "Thanks," I mumble.

He looks accomplished. "Anytime."

I narrow my eyes. "I guess I won't punch you now."

I sit down on the bed gently. It is then that I look down and realize that I am in my undershirt and shorts.

I stand up angrily. "Who undressed me!?"

Jack throws his hands up like _not me_, and Kid Blink grins suspiciously.

"You better have a damn good explanation, Mister."

"You were feverish?"

"I'ma kill you. What else did you do to me while I was asleep?"

"Nothin' fun," he says, hiking a thumb at Jack. "_He _wouldn't let me."

I feel my brain going blurry again, I sway, and steady myself on Blink's arm. "I don't feel so good."

He actually looks concerned (surprise, surprise) and guides me back into bed with a hand on my back. "Go back to sleep," he says.

I do so without argument. I am falling, falling, falling.

In my dream, I'm falling, too. I am falling face-forward from the Brooklyn Bridge. I start to scream as I grow nearer to the looming water.

With a great crack like a whip I am thrown into the water. It is freezing. In my dream, I know that I am dead.

I wake up in a cold sweat, and I feel like I am holding something. My breathing gradually steadies and I look at my hand. My fingers are twined with someone's. I slowly look up and see Kid Blink watching me.

"What are you doing?" I say in surprise.

"You were saying my name again," he says.

"Why?"

"I don't know. You were saying somethin' about me catchin' you. You kept saying, 'I love you, Blink, I'd do anything for you.'"

"Liar," I accuse.

"Okay, but you were sayin' my name."

I shake my hand free. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be."

"Okay…." This is awkward.

He places a hand on either side of me, so that I am looking up at him. "What do you think you're—"

But I am silenced by his mouth pressing down hard on mine. I groan and try to push him off, but he is determined this time.

He presses down harder on me, one hand straying to unfasten my shirt. I shimmy out of my shorts as he discards the button-down shirt and pants he was wearing.

He kisses me passionately and I tangle my hands in his hair and crush him closer to me.

My head is spinning and I try to remain conscious. I won't lie and say that I didn't miss this.

Just as we are finishing up, he leans up and whispers, "I love you," into my ear.

I try not to think about this. Really, I'm trying hard not to pass out again. I manage to hold it off until we are finished.

A black shadow slips over my eyelids and I can barely hear Blink say, "Not again." He sounds so far away.

When I come to again, he is waiting impatiently again. "How long was it this time?" I ask him sleepily.

"Just a couple minutes," he sighs.

"I'm sorry. You didn't have to wait."

"I wanted to."

"Look…what you said…"

"What did I say?"

"You said, 'I love you.'"

He looks nervously at me. "Oh, um. Force of habit."

I turn my head and look at him. "Why don't I believe you?"

"'Cause you wish it was true?" he taunts.

"So it's not?"

"Uh…"

"I see how it is." I cock an eyebrow at him. "You're just using me for my body?"

He looks at me like I'm stupid. "You didn't know this?"

"I did," I say. "But something's changed."

He shifts uncomfortably. "Can we _not_ talk about this?"

"Why?" I tease. "Bashful?"

"Not hardly," he says.

"Why then?" I challenge.

He stands up and strides to the door. I don't think he's going to answer but he is halfway out the door when he sticks his head back in. "'Cause it's true, okay? 'Cause I love you, alright?"

My mouth falls open. But he is gone. "Alright," I say.

Why am I always talking to nobody?

**~Author's Note:**

**Thanks to blondechica94 and Abominable Toast for the favorites, and to for the review. I still love you all.**

**Enjoy and R&R (please?)**

**lovelovelove, Julianna.~**


	12. Chapter 12

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Twelve – Somebody Else's Arms**

I don't eat dinner that night. I am too distracted and tired, besides.

I don't feel well at all. I can't make up my mind. I wish I could run away and leave all this nonsense behind…

All the boys go to bed at the same time at night. It's just what they do. They are creatures of habit.

Each one of them drops off to sleep and yet, I am still left staring at the ceiling, Racetrack's steady breathing below me. I try to let it lull me into sleeping but it doesn't.

I hop down from the bunk quietly and pad my way over to Mush's bunk.

"Mush," I shake him gently.

He rolls over and grumbles. "Hmyiweru."

"Can we talk, baby," I ask him.

"Yweriour," he mumbles, but slides over to make room for me. I slide underneath the covers and next to him.

"Mush," I say, tears starting to form in my eyes. "I feel like…I don't even know what I feel like."

"It's okay," he says, still half-asleep.

"No it's not," I sob, turning away from him and trying to muffle my voice.

He rolls over to face me and pulls me closer to him. I turn so we are face to face.

"Hey," he whispers, smiling. "Don't argue."

I smile and cry harder. He pulls me into him and I cry openly into his shirt. His hands move methodically on my back, calmingly.

I hug my arms around him, holding him tight. "It feels like I'm drowning," I say.

"You're gonna be just fine," he assures me.

I take a deep breath. "I wish I could believe that."

"Would I lie to you?" he whispers.

"No," I whisper back.

"Then believe it," he murmurs into my hair.

"Thanks, baby," I say.

"Anytime," he says. His words are starting to become slow.

His arms are still wrapped around me and my face is still pressed comfortably into the warm, wet place on his shirt where I've been crying. Eventually his hands stop comforting me, but by that time, we are both fast asleep.

I wake up still comfortably in Mush's arms. But I am soon aware of the angry glare of Kid Blink as he stares down at us in mutiny.

"What the hell?" he asks.

I clear my throat. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no? Care to clarify?"

"No, I don't," I say.

He flicks Mush in the head. "Hey, Musherella, wake up."

"Don't you dare!" I scream at him. "Get away from him!"

I stand up quickly and punch Kid Blink in the stomach, hard. "Aagh," he says, doubling over in distress.

I saunter toward him, where he has backed away in defense. I smack him upside the head. "How _dare_ you," I growl.

He gives me a dirty look and walks away, clutching his stomach. I go back to the bed and stroke Mush's head gently. "Thank you," I whisper and press my lips tenderly to his forehead. "You're the greatest ever. Hands down."

"Hey, everyone," says Jack suddenly, bursting into the room. Those of us who are awake look at him. Those of us who were not curse him. "Listen. There's a new newsie I want you to all meet."

He reaches behind him and guides a young-ish girl forward. She has long brown hair with a bow perched atop. She is wearing a purple jumper and her large feet seem slightly awkward as she moves.

She is smiling happily, and waves. "Hi, guys!"

"Hey," we say back.

"Her name's Runaround," says Jacky. "Let me introduce you to some of the Manhattan newsies," he tells her.

"Okay," she says cheerily.

He takes her around. Kid Blink comes back to his bunk, next to Mush's, where Mushy and I sit on the bed, waiting to meet her. Blink leans up against his bunk casually. When Jacky brings Runaround over, he shakes her hand with unnecessary excitement.

He looks her right in the eyes (well, his eye, her eyes) and gives her his trademark smile. "Nice to meet you," he says smoothly.

Her cheeks flush and she giggles. "You too," she says, smiling.

"Listen," says Blink. "How's about I show you around the city today, what do ya say?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'd like that."

That _bastard._ I could kill him.

What was he playing at, telling me he liked me? Was he just trying to screw me over? Is this his idea of funny? Or—

Or, maybe this is his idea of revenge. For waking up with Mushy this morning.

Boys! So assumptive!

Runaround walks over to Mush and I. Mush greets her politely and I don't really say much when she shakes my hand.

I grip hers hard and look her squarely in the eyes. "Stay away from Kid Blink," I warn.

She blinks innocently. "Why?"

"He just wants to get in your pants."

"That's silly." She laughs. Kid Blink catches my eye from across the room and mouths the words, _I win._

I shrug. "Your loss."

She skips over to Kid Blink. He smiles at her charmingly and they start to talk. I roll my eyes and look at Mushy.

"Are you watching this?" I ask, and he nods solemnly. "I think I may vomit."

"He's a turd," conquers Mushy-kins.

"I couldn't agree more."

I stand up and stretch. "Mushy," I yawn. "Let's stay together today."

He nods and we go our separate ways to get ready. I splash water on my face and hair.

At the sink next to me, Racetrack is humming as he brushes his hair.

"Don't even think about singin', Race," I tell him as I brush through my tangles of hair.

"You're just jealous," he says.

"Yeah, right," I say snidely.

When we are all finally ready, we leave and bound down the steps onto the sidewalk. David is waiting at the bottom for us.

My heart drops down into my stomach.

"Come on, Mushy," I say, and grab Mush's hand.

"What is it?" he says to me under his breath.

"I don't wanna talk to David," I tell him.

"Oh. Why?"

"'Cause I…I don't know. I think he likes me."

"Want me to soak him?"

"Nah," I say reasonably. "I can do it myself, bud."

"Are you gonna?"

"Maybe if he gets outta line."

"You know," he says. "This time last week you'd be beatin' the daylights out of him already."

"What's your point?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Well, nothin'," he says. "Except maybe, you know, you don't really hate him as much as it seems. That's all."

I sigh. "Okay, it's true. But don't tell anyone."

"I would never."

I look down at my scuffed shoes. "So what do I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

I look at him tearfully. "I don't know."

"Well, until you decide, don't do anything."

Someone brushes my shoulder as they rush past me. "Hey, punk!" I call after them. "Why don't ya come back here?"

Whoever it is pushes back through the crowd and reveals himself. It was David.

"Sorry," he says.

"You wanna fight about it?" I ask him, only half-joking.

"No," he says. "I'll pass."

He keeps walking to catch up with Cowboy, purposely avoiding my eyes.

The whole rest of the day, anytime I encounter him, he looks away from me and avoids me with exaggeration.

I look at Mush, and he looks back sympathetically whenever this happens.

"Can we walk?" I ask Mushy when we are finished selling. It is late in the afternoon, and it looks like it's about to rain.

He falls into step with me and I let my feet guide me over to Central Park and soon enough we find ourselves sitting on the bench where David and I once sat.

"This is where it happened," I tell Mush. "This is where he kissed me."

He pats my arm knowingly. "You'll figure this one out, Rage, I know you will."

"Well, I'm glad you have faith in me," I say. "'Cause I sure don't. These past few days have been awful, Mushy. Every time I see him, I just want to be near him."

"I know," he says.

"It makes me so mad." I punch my palm angrily. "At myself."

"I know."

"I hate myself right now. I hate myself for, like, not being able to decide."

"I know."

"No one knows what it's like," I defy him.

"I do," he says.

"Yeah?" I challenge.

"Yeah," he says.

We walk back to the Lodging House a few minutes later. When we get back, everyone is standing around talking. They look worried.

Jack is standing talking to Sarah (why is she here?) and Les.

Something definitely feels wrong. Jack sees Mush and I and walks over to us.

"What's wrong?" I ask him immediately.

"It's David," he says and I realize with a jolt that I can't see him anywhere. "We can't find him. We don't know where he went."

I million thoughts start rushing through my head as I steady myself on his arm after this blow of information. I see thousands of snapshots. The Brooklyn Bridge (he would never), a loaded gun (would he?), the Delanceys…

The Delanceys. They are not nearly as stupid as I often give them credit for. They're observant. What a better way to get revenge on me than to hurt someone that I love?

Did I just say that I love David? I must have hit my head harder than I thought. A bubbling rage begins in my chest. Nobody hurts David except me.

I have to find him. I have to figure this one out. And I'll save him if it kills me.

I owe him that much.

**~Author's Note:**

**Thankkks to cailin baire conlon and Me (LOL) for the reviews. **

**I am interested in what Me had to say about over-doing it. Part of it, I suppose, was meant to be over-done, as it is a very dramatic chapter…but anyways, I'm just wondering what specifically you meant; if you don't mind telling me. :)**

**lovelovelove, Julianna.~**


	13. Chapter 13

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Thirteen – Knife Blood Nightmare**

"When was the last time you saw him?" I am firing questions.

"Two hours ago," says Jack. "Me and him was sellin' together and then he finished up and said he was gonna go home."

"And?"

"He told me before he left this morning that he'd be back about four hours ago now," says Sarah.

"We came here when he was an hour late," adds Les.

"We thought maybe he was doin' somethin' and he'd come back here, but he didn't," says Jack.

"Les and I even went back home, but he still isn't there," Sarah says.

"So," I say, facing the truth. "So, he's been missing for _four hours_, and not one of you thought that I might find that to be valuable information?"

"What are you gonna do?" Jack explodes. "Go lookin' for him? Huh?"

"Maybe I just wanted to know!" I scream. "Stop jumpin' to conclusions!"

Darkness is falling around us. "Come on," says Jack. "He can take care of himself. Let's all go get some sleep…"

Uncomfortably we all move back into our beds. It seems that morning was just a few short hours ago and everything was different.

A plan is forming in my head. I will wait until they are all sleeping. Then I will leave through a window, and I will find him.

It takes hours for all of the newsies' breathing to become slow and sleepy. I lay in bed, jumping at every noise, and wait for them all to fall asleep. Then, when I am sure that they have, I creep quietly from my bed and pry open a window.

I swing my feet onto the ledge and jump down. It isn't a long drop. I stand and look around.

It's New York City, so the streets are far from empty but they have cleared from what they are like during the day, and the people that are still flooding it give me a good cover.

The first place I go is the Delancey home. We've all been here quite a few times, and luckily, I know just where the brothers' bedroom window is. Don't ask me how, but I'll tell you that it involved rope and a few dozen rotten eggs.

I use the windowsills to scale the wall to their room and when I reach the window, I peer into it, balancing myself on the sill and making sure that I am unseen.

There are two beds in the room and both the Delancey brothers are in them. Mentally, I retrace my thoughts. So it wasn't the Delanceys, which means that he must have gone somewhere…to do who-knows-what.

I drop back down the wall, this time not using quite as much care and slink into the shadows that surround the house. When I am back on the street I try to think of all the places that he might go.

The Bridge. I break out into a sprint, desperate to get there before something happened. If somebody had dropped himself off of the Brooklyn Bridge, surely we'd have heard about it, right?

The thought strikes me that maybe we wouldn't hear about it until tomorrow's headline. When I am standing at the foot of the Bridge, it looms at me out of the darkness, daunting, as if daring me to creep any closer, to find out what I don't want to know anyway.

I step onto it and begin to walk. It takes me awhile to walk across it on a good day, but now, with my mind clouded with anxiety, each step seems to take me longer. It is as if my own body is turning on me, purposely taking forever to cross the bridge, taking me step by step closer to either the worst realization or the totally wrong direction.

I am about to give up when I see it: the body laying face-down on the side of the Bridge, almost entirely obscured by the veil of darkness and night.

His arms are flung above his head where he lays sprawled and as I approach the figure, every one of my cells is praying that it is nobody I know.

I hit my knees as I come nearer the figure and lay a hand on his back. It is still warm but as I measure his breaths they are shallow and ragged. I will myself not to look at his head but I do anyway.

There are midnight-brown curls surrounded by the halo of sidewalk. His face is turned to the side and his face is absolutely pallid, absolutely ghostly, and absolutely David.

It is then, as I tear my eyes away from his transfixing angel's face, that I notice the blood pooled around his wrist.

**~Author's Note: **

**Thanks for the reviews, lovers! Please continue to R&R.**

**Cailain Baire Conlon: hehe. Good prediction. mm suspense!**

**Myst S.: haha. I know how you feel; I definitely love Blink, and part of me wishes she would choose him over Davey…but, alas…**

**lovelovelove, Julianna.~**


	14. Chapter 14

_**RAGE**_

**Chapter Fourteen – **

"No," I say aloud, trying to convince myself that it's a trick of the moonlight.

With a little more force than was necessary, I pull on David's shoulder, turning him over. His face is deathly pale, his lips contrast blithely against the ivory of his cheeks and there are half-moon bruises beneath his eyes.

He is alive, but barely. I prop him into a sitting position and try to rouse him.

His head lolls. "David," I say, touching his face. "David, look at me."

Weakly, obviously taking all of his strength, he lifts his head. A glaze falls over his eyes and his head falls again. "David," I say again, putting my arms around him to warm him. "Stay with me, please."

His hands feebly move and this subtle movement gives me hope. I examine his face. He is pale and turning blue slowly. I put a hand to his chest to feel for movement.

It is still.

Evidently, he is too exhausted to breathe. How in the world can I save him now? The only thing I can possibly think to do is to force him to breathe.

I tilt his head back and take a deep, deep breath. I breath it into his mouth, hoping that maybe this will work to fill his lungs with air. His chest expands, so I take it that it's working.

I examine him again. His chest is rising and falling on its own now. I try not to focus on the icy temperature of his lips as I touched them to my own.

Looking back down at his wrist, bleeding profusely now, I quickly unbutton my top shirt with nimble fingers and wrap it around the wound, tying it in a strong knot. I fling out an arm to grab his knife, which lies a few feet away and is coated in his own blood.

My shirt becomes soaked with blood almost immediately and I try to tie it tighter.

I whisper his name again. "David. Please, look at me."

He doesn't move, his breathing still shallow and ragged, each breath coming in great gasping dollops, wearing thin is his body, his strength.

His head falls to his chest again and his body allows him to sleep. I force the thought out: he might sleep forever.

"Dammit!" I exclaim, becoming desperate. "David!"

His eyes blink open slowly as if it takes the whole of his strength to do this. It is like waking up early after only a few hours' sleep. He gazes at me; well, not exactly at me, but somewhere above my head, as if he is seeing something—angels?

I wrap a hand around his other wrist and look him fiercely in the eyes. "Don't go toward the light, David."

"Behind you," he murmurs weakly, so weakly, and his head drops again, a glaze falling over his eyes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn my head to look behind me, expecting a horrible or mangles mess of a man to be standing there, ready to cut me into pieces and dispose of my body.

But there's no one there. Okay, there's a brown cat.

I sneeze and shake my head to clear it.

Snapping back to attention, I kneel next to David's slumped form. With some difficulty, I work an arm under one of his and try to pull him to his feet. He is too heavy for me; despite the willpower that is surging through me, I cannot lift him, even for a moment. I have no hope of being able to carry him all the way back to the Lodging House.

Defeated, his body slumps back down onto the dirty sidewalk. Desperately I tug on the shirt tied in a knot around his arm, trying to tighten it. It is almost entirely soaked with blood now, what was formerly a tan color now soaked through with crimson.

Suddenly, too suddenly, David's eyes snap open, shockingly blue against the colorlessness of his bloodless face.

"Behind you," he moans again, but this time I don't look.

"David!" I grasp onto his new-found consciousness desperately. "David. Stay with me."

I try to focus his attention on my face, but his eyes are still fixed behind my head, filled with dread. Turning around slowly, I do not look up. I do not look to see the source of two pairs of beaten leather shoes and grey trousers.

Gulping, I turn back to David, give the makeshift bandage one last feeble tug, stand up and dust myself off. I turn to the pair standing behind me with dignity.

One of them opens his mouth, but before any words can come out, I ball up my fist, clenching my reluctant bravery inside my sweaty, blood-streaked fingers, draw back and punch Morris Delancey in the mouth.

**Author's Note~**

**Wow, so um. I'm back.! It's been forever, and I'm sorry about that. If any of you still care about this story, I hope you enjoy this chapter (:**

**I know it's pretty short, but I really want to start updating again (hopefully on a weekly basis again). **

**I am looking forward to giving Rage some closure, and the story will be ending soon. BUTBUTBUT, I'm getting some awesome ideas for a sequel, in which the roles sort of "switch". After David's suicide-y stuff, he becomes more angry and frustrated and Rage…well, she's still Rage. But David's the angry one. Anywho. Suggestions would be awesome, lovers. **

**AAAAAAND, a HUGE thank you to all the reviewers, especially Switchblade Conlon, and Myst S. **

**lovelovelove, **

**Julianna.**


	15. Chapter 15

_**RAGE**_

**HELLO ALL YOU LOVELY PEOPLE! :D **

**I'm baaaaacckkkk! And you know what that means…! Haha, I'm not going to tell you what it means cause I don't really know either. **

**Umm, so I know I'm kind of a failure as far as writing goes—I haven't updated in about three centuries, even though it's summer for goodness' sake—but I'm hoping that all of you graceful readers and reviewers can forgive me of the blights upon my soul!**

**Okay, so I just have to give a few shout-outs to the most delightful people ever: my reviewers! You are all beautiful people: Myst S., Switchblade Conlon, newsie dork from D.U.M.B.O., (EGHH!), punkrock109…**

**Oh yeah, and there's this girlie called Spot'sGalFrom1899 and it's her birthday in eight days, so—ahem,**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR SPOT'S GAL FROM 1899, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUU! Much love, and have a fabulous birthday. **

**Soooo, I'm pretty sure at this point, most of you gorgeous people are thinking, 'Omg Julianna, STFU so we can read the story that we have been DYING to read for months and months and months which you have so cruelly deprived us of!'**

**Well, if you insist.**

**Chapter Fifteen – Sweet Dreams **

Evidently, he is too exhausted to breathe. How in the world can I save him now? The only thing I can possibly think to do is to force him to breathe.

I tilt his head back and take a deep, deep breath. I breath it into his mouth, hoping that maybe this will work to fill his lungs with air. His chest expands, so I take it that it's working.

I examine him now. His chest is rising and falling on its own now. I try not to focus on the perfect temperature of his lips as I touched them to my own.

I whisper his name again. "David. Please, look at me."

He lifts his head again, and I can see a spark of life in his eyes. "I'll kill them," he whispers dryly.

"It's not worth it," I say. "What's important is that you're okay."

He looks down at himself. His leg is bent at an odd angle. "I don't think I can walk."

I feel his leg with my hand. It's swollen but nothing feels out of place. I roll up the pants leg and a chill runs through his exhausted body. His leg is slashed deeply, but the bones seem to all be in place.

He is bruised, but whole. "You can do it, David. God, you're okay."

I am so relieved, that I am practically giddy. He is not in the best condition by any means, and it will be a job getting him home in this state. It will be closer to go to his, and Sarah's, house. But the way I feel, seeing her would almost be like Christmas.

I help him to his feet and almost immediately, his knees buckle underneath him. I put an arm under his and steady him. He leans on me gradually, and eventually fully. It is hard to walk under his weight (all muscle) but I manage. I'm strong enough. Physically.

It takes us a very long time to stagger all the way back to the Jacobs' house. We have to stop for rests often. Once, I even leave him to beg for water from a sleazy, all-night restaurant. I give it to him to drink, and it brings a little color into his face, although he still looks pasty and wholly unhealthy.

I use some of the water to dab at a nasty cut on his forehead. He feels like he's running a fever. I hope he isn't sick.

We finally manage to hobble up the stairs to his home. I don't knock on the door, but instead use a key from his pocket to open it. It is dark and I feel a little bad about waking up Sarah and Les.

I lay him down in his bed and strip away the dirty, blood-soaked clothes that he is wearing. I ignore the way his muscular body tenses underneath my hands. I wipe away the blood from his chest, neck and face with water from the kitchen and an old shirt.

I then pull the blankets up to his neck and tuck them around his sleeping form. His eyes closed almost as soon as he was lain down. I use a new wet cloth to wipe clean his hair and continue to clean the blood from his face.

There is a nasty cut above his eye, stretching from his hairline down to his mouth. He will probably have a scar. I lean down to touch his forehead.

I fight the army of thoughts that have been pummeling me all evening.

He's burning up and his skin looks sallow in the candlelight. But, I can't help but notice how beautiful he looks sleeping, his hair distinct against the creamy white of the pillow…

I notice that I am crying and then I notice an arm around my shoulders. I look to my left and see Sarah standing there. She turns me to look at her, hands on my arms.

"I know we don't get along," she says.

"Ain't that the truth," I say. You can't take the sarcastic outta the girl, apparently, no matter what happens.

"But thank you," she says. "Thank you for my brother. Thank you so much."

I bow my head. "You have no idea what I had to do…"

She shakes her head sadly. "We'll never understand each other. I get that. But I'll owe you for this for the rest of my life."

I shake my head now. "No," I say. "Just seeing him alive is payment enough."

She nods and releases me. We both watch as David turns in his sleep. He sighs.

I look at him and think about all that his body has been through today. And mine. I have blood under my fingernails. I am dirty and sticky and disgusting. "Watch him for a minute?" I ask Sarah and she nods.

I take some water outside and douse myself in it, drying off with a towel. When I walk back in, I am not very clean, but it's a big improvement. Sarah's head has lolled onto her hand and her eyes are closed in sleep. I shift an arm under her shoulders and walk her back to her bed.

Her head moves to the pillow in contentedness and she smiles in her sleep. I'll probably still hate her in the morning, but for right now, I'm okay with the girl.

I walk back over to David's bed, my shoulder's aching and my muscles begging for sleep, for rest. I won't allow it.

I've gotta stay with him. I pull up a chair to the bed and resign myself to watching to make sure that David is okay through the night. I sit there, fighting off the powerful tug of my eyelids for two hours.

It is then that his eyes open weakly, as if he had somehow sensed me watching. He smiles.

I pour him a glass of water and offer it to him. He drinks it and water trails down his chin. I use the corner of the blanket to soak it up.

I feel his forehead again. My fingers are cool compared to his face, he's burning up. "You should sleep," I say to him gently.

"So should you," he says, and shifts in the bed, making a place for me in front of him. He lifts the covers in invitation.

I am so tired that without hesitation I climb into the place where his feverish body was lying just minutes before. I turn so that I can see him. His eyelids droop again and he falls easily into dreaming.

I sigh and rest my bones. Sleeping is so easy here, in this warmth of David where I wish I could live for ever.

It is then, when I am at my most vulnerable, that terrible thoughts begin to creep into my head. The most prevalent is, _It's all your fault. He almost died because of_ you.

It is all my fault. If he had never met me, if I had just stayed away from him like I always knew I should, if only he hadn't grown to know me. It is all my fault.

He will be scarred for the rest of his life and it's all because of me. His leg might never be the same and it's all down to me. He is sick now, he almost died tonight, he almost froze to death, he had to witness the Delanceys having their way with me. And it is. All. My. Damn. Fault.

I start to cry, uncontrollably, and tuck my chin into my shoulder. His arm works its way around my body and he tugs me closer to him. Even though he is fast asleep, he can still somehow sense that I need him there to comfort me in my weakest hour. His body really is burning with fever.

_All my fault._


End file.
